


Doin' Just Fine

by lonelylibrarian



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, blood and injury mentions/desc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelylibrarian/pseuds/lonelylibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint carefully reaches behind himself, pulling off the paper and squinting at it. It's not a kick me sign, like he had expected. Instead it's a piece of notebook paper folded in half, he opens it to find in messy, tiny, scrawl:<br/>call me...or text me if you're more into that sort of thing<br/>Or, the one inspired by that one tumblr post with the ghost kid and the jock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doin' Just Fine

**Author's Note:**

> this doesn't really follow [the lil tumblr](http://pxtrclus.tumblr.com/post/88062697911/z-e-l-d-a-jump-theakumakuma-daitoshi) post exactly bc there are like 12 million different endings to it but...whatever  
> title from mr brightside bc hey why not

Oh god. There's girls laughing. Clint can hear the high pitched giggles and the shushes. He keeps his eyes focused on the books in his locker, pretends to be intensely interested in them. His fingers tap out a random rhythm against his locker door as he hears footsteps behind him. The girls are still giggling, and he's too scared to even risk a glance behind himself to see who's coming. It can't be that bad, there's other students lingering in the hall who are waiting to be picked up or just staying to talk their friends. So he's probably not gonna get beat up - too many witnesses. The footsteps have stopped and Clint feels a small pressure against his backpack, someone pressing something onto it. And really? People still use kick me signs? He waits a beat before turning around in time to see a muscular back clad in a way too tight gray hoodie turning the corner, the group of girls following him.  
Unfortunately, they have their hood pulled up like some kind of mysterious paper sticker vigilante. Clint carefully reaches behind himself, pulling off the paper and squinting at it. It's not a kick me sign, like he had expected. Instead it's a piece of notebook paper folded in half, he opens it to find in messy, tiny, scrawl:  
call me...or text me if you're more into that sort of thing  
along with a set of numbers and a small drawing of a little bird. It matches the one that's on the middle of his shirt. Clint blushes and shoves the note in his pocket, where it seems to burn through the fabric. Whoever wrote it hadn't signed it, but he can only guess it was the person he had seen scurrying away. Clint ignores the way his heart rate speeds up and his palms sweat a little bit, instead leaving the school with his head down hoping no one can see his blush. He finds he keeps pressing his fingers against the paper on his walk home.  
Clint does not spend twenty minutes staring at the menacing piece of paper. It doesn't even look that menacing, it's slightly crumbled and has various creases from being folded different ways. Clint wonders how long the guy had carried it around with him.  
It could be a prank, he thinks to himself. Because that would be just the kind of thing to happen to him. It's happened before, girl's giving him phony numbers or straight guys giving him their numbers because apparently that's funny now. He keeps staring at it until the letters blur together, like that will make a solution randomly appear. He doesn't even know who it's from, all he knows is that someone was wearing a gray hoodie. He tries to think who was wearing a gray hoodie today. The only person he can think of is Sam, but Clint rejects that thought as quickly as it came. Sam's the 100% straight (although in Clint's opinion, no one is 100% straight), super hot quarterback that all the cheerleaders want. So there's no way that Sam would be giving Clint his number. No fucking way.  
He's not sure how long he sits there playing with his phone and debating contacting the number, but somehow it gets to six o'clock and he hasn't done any homework So he shoves the note in his nightstand drawer and tries to focus on trigonometry and push thoughts of the sender being Sam out of his mind.  
The next day nothing strange happens, there's no random declarations of love or flowers falling out of his locker. So Clint figures the super mysterious note was a prank. His chest feels heavy all day, and he can't stop glancing towards Sam when they have English together. Sam catches him staring once or twice, but when he does he just looks down at his desk. Clint decides it's better to focus on To Kill a Mockingbird anyways.  
Clint turns his hearing aid down as he leaves the campus, it's probably not the safest thing to do but it's better than having to hear the laughter of the students around him. He always assumes they're laughing at him. Clint's just turned off the school property and onto the sidewalk when he feels footsteps coming up behind him. They're hard and heavy, someone running. Clint puts his hearing aid back up as he turns around to find Sam running towards him. He runs into Clint, knocking into his chest and almost making the two of them fall over. Clint latches on to the closest thing he can find, which just so happens to be Sam's arm. The arm that's not circling his waist to keep him from falling backwards. Clint tries to look anywhere but Sam's eyes.  
"Shit, sorry." Sam mutters as he backs up and moves his hand from Clint's waist. Clint lets the hand that was gripping his arm fall flatly to his side. They stand there staring at each other for what seems like at least five minutes, which is a long time to just he staring at someone. Even if they have the jawline that Sam has, which Clint could probably stare at for days.  
"Uh, Clint?" Sam asks, waving a hand in front of his face.  
Clint realizes he might have been the only one staring.  
"Did you need something?" Clint grips the strap of his backpack, he shifts his feet after finding he can't stay still. He looks behind Sam to see if anyone is following him, maybe they've come to beat him up and steal his lunch money or something. Or maybe Sam was the one who...  
Clint cuts off the thought before it can finish Sam wouldn't do that. Even if there was the possibility of Sam being even the tiniest bit of some type of gay, he seems more like someone who wouldn't be too shy to talk to someone. There's no way that's what he's here about.  
"Yeah I was just," Sam pauses, looking off to the side and clearing his throat. "I was just wondering if I could get your help on this physics homework, you seem to be pretty good at it." Sam pulls his backpack off and fishes out today's physics homework, most of it already complete.  
Clint looks over it, focusing on the problems instead of disappointment making it's way through him. He knew it wasn't Sam.  
"These look fine to me," Clint mutters, handing the paper back to Sam.  
"I wasn't sure about the..." Sam makes a weird motion with his hand, that Clint assumes is supposed to encompass some element of the homework "ya know." Sam finishes, and Clint hopes Sam doesn't notice the way he watches his throat as he swallows.The two stand there until Sam finally turns back towards the school, saying something about track practice. Clint turns his hearing aid back down and starts heading home again. If he glances back a few times to glance at Sam's ass, well that's no one's business but his own.

 

So what Clint got a black eye? He was overdue for one anyways, if he's being honest.  
And it happened after school, so it's not like it caused a huge brouhaha or got anyone in trouble. So really, it wasn't a big deal. Not even really a deal at all.  
And that's why he decides to just head home and figure something out when he gets there.  
He's almost made it off school grounds when he hears someone running up behind him.  
"Hey."  
Clint turns to see Sam running up behind him. He forgets about his black eye for a second, which is why he's momentarily confused when Sam stops in his tracks and lets out an "Oh shit."  
"What happened to your eye?" Sam asks as he walks closer to Clint.  
Clint then remembers the throbbing pain which seems to be pulsing through half his eye.  
"Oh, this old thing?" He asks, pointing to his eye and forcing a smile. He's not sure if he's flirting, and if he is he's not sure he's doing a very good job.  
Sam laughs, Clint looks away to keep his too bright and gorgeous smile from blinding him. It's not like he thinks about said smile a lot, it's just a fact that Sam Wilson has a very nice smile.  
Sam must guess that Clint doesn't wanna talk about what happened,  
"I think you're bleeding a little too." he says, pointing towards Clint's face.  
Clint reaches up and feels above his eyebrow, and yup that would explain the stinging and why he had wondered if it was raining.  
Clint can't think of anything witty to say this time.  
"You wanna just come back to my place and fix it up? I just live right over there."  
Sam points to a group of apartments across the street. Clint nods, finding he's not able to get any words out.  
Probably that stupid smile again. 

 

Sam had lead Clint up to his third story apartment, then into the bathroom where Clint now sits on the counter patiently waiting while Sam cleans his cut.  
Sam goes through the motions quickly and efficiently, singing to himself while he dabs antiseptic over Clint's face.  
He turns back to the first aid kit, digging through it in search of a band-aid, "So uh, you never called me."  
He turns back to Clint, keeping his eyes focused on his work. Clint almost chokes on air.  
He clears his throat, "Um what?"  
He asks, staring at Sam bewildered.  
"I gave you that note and you never called." Sam answers, trying to come off as nonchalant as he turns back to the first aid kit to close it up.  
"You never signed it." Clint answers, amazingly enough finding it in himself to not freak out and try and maybe so something that could be considered flirting.  
Sam lets out a small laugh, "It was supposed to be all mysterious and romantic...or whatever."  
"Yeah, wasn't really either of those. No offense." Clint does his best to pull off a sexy, flirty smirk. It might come off more like a grimace.  
There's more silence.  
Okay, it had definitely been a grimace.  
"Doesn't really change the fact that I've had a super embarrassing crush on you since Freshman year."  
Sam laughs again, truly one of the best sounds to grace this sin ridden earth, Clint thinks.  
"Well, I guess I win then because I have had a super embarrassing crush on you since 8th grade."  
Clint wants to lean forward and press their lips together, Sam's stomach is already brushing across Clint's knee, there's not much further to go.  
"Oh so now it's a competition?"  
Clint asks, looking up at Sam and really just trying not to do anything weird with his face.  
"Always was, Barton."  
Sam finally, finally closes the few inches between him and Clint, pressing their lips together. Sam's lips are soft and perfect and amazing and Clint kind of never wants to stop kissing him. Like ever. There's awkward fumbling as Sam moves his hands to cup Clint's face and Clint's hands move to Sam's waist.  
Clint breathes out a laugh against Sam's mouth as Sam deepens the kiss, twining their tongues together and doing absolutely amazing things that should definitely be illegal.  
They pull apart, both trying to catch their breath.  
"One thing," Clint says, pausing to breathe, "maybe don't use my last name before you kiss me next time."  
Sam nods, already leaning back in again, "Yeah, sorry that was weird. " Sam laughs just before their lips press together again. They're barely able to kiss because they're both smiling so hard.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like nothing happens in this i am so sorry. I do not have the ability to write plot fic just fluff without plot, fwp, if you will.  
> I'm not sure if I got their characters down, specifically Sam's, because hs aus are really hard and weird for me bc no matter what I do i always picture 30+ yr olds in highschool. I might have to rewatch catws to study Sam's flirting lmao.  
> Also tongues are weird ?? and so hard to write about ??? if you have any tips on describing making out pls lmk also sorry for over using italics.  
> ok sorry for this long af note.  
> come see me on [tumblr](http://pxtrclus.tumblr.com/) pls!


End file.
